Less to do with Love
by LollyLady
Summary: Follows the lives of three young girls - Hermione, Helens daughter, Trina, a servant of Troy, and Briseis, a slavegirl working for the Greeks.


Paris' hand fell to his side and he gazed out over the wall at the young Greek woman walking towards the gates of Troy, his mind still reeling, Helen, standing beside him, watched his expression as the young woman shouted up to be let in. The jealous thoughts inside her head threatening to spill over. She was still feeling jealous when Hector had just been killed. She didn't think he loved her anymore, Paris wasn't able to love, not really, and Helen wished nothing more than to be able to forget him, go back to Menelaus, to her family in Sparta, but she couldn't, there was only one man who she would have followed to the end, and as he rushed down the stairs to open the gates, she wondered why he'd ever brought her there. It was _his _fault his brother was dead.

Paris was getting older, wiser he supposed too, and it wasn't that he didn't still feel for Helen, he did, he always would, It was more that he felt deprived. He had married at a young age, and although he had experienced some things, he felt like Helen had stopped him from living as he wanted to. Hector had always expected more from him, his big brother had died being disappointed of him, although he'd never show it. His father, and mother when she lived, had been disappointed in him from the beginning and he was sick of always being the disappointment. He'd made mistakes, he'd been the cause of too many deaths, and been too much of a coward to fight himself, but in the beginning it was worth it, it was worth being blamed for the war because he had Helen, he had his prize, and while he still thought of Oenone, he slept with the most beautiful woman alive, the face that lauched a thousand ships. Then the spark died. They argued, each blaming one another for unimportant things and both hating each other, but loving each other more. Both shouting, never talking and they grew tired. Tired of the arguements. Tired of fighting. He gave up trying to get the spark back and loved her only from a distance. _She _was afterall, the reason his brother was dead.

The girl walked though the gates, coming face to face with the infamous Paris and his smouldering blue eyes. She smiled.

"I am Paris, Prince and Heir of Troy."

She fiddled with a strand of her dark hair and smiled again. "Oh I know who you are. I am sorry for my timing." She glanced up at the building to her left and saw Helen watching, her heart leaping at the prospect. "I am Hermione. I guess I'll have changed quite a lot since you last saw me Paris. Speak of my mother."

"Your...Helen? Helen is, well Helen's fine."

"I come to tell her that my father is dead." She made a face. "They say he died of a broken heart and I guess that makes you..." Helen appeared behind her husband and placed her long, slender hand on his shoulder. "...both of you murderers."

Helen smiled. "I don't understand. Who are you?"

"I'm..."-

Paris sighed. "She's your daughter."

Trina closed her ears to the noise outside and held Andromanche close to her, willing herself not to cry, to keep strong as the older woman, her friend and mistress sobbed in her arms. Trina wondered feverishly how her own mother fared, the death of her father and brother's at the hands of Achilles and her sister Briseis' capture would have left her mother distraught if not dead, but Trina hadn't seen her family for years, not since she had been sent to serve as a servant to Apollo, and had no thoughts of going back to Mount Ida where if she lived, her mother was sure to still be.

"My dear child." Andromache whispered shakily. "My dear, dear child You're shaking. What is it? What thoughts trouble your pretty little head?"

"I'm sorry my lady. No thoughts of any substance. My family is all, and 'tis selfish of me to be thinking such things at a time like this."

The older woman smiled. "'Tis not selfish Trina. You don't have a selfish bone in your body. Its natural. You just watched my husband die. Your friend. Its only natural to have your mind on your own family. Does Briseis still stay with the Greeks?"

"Yes m'lady. She's still there as far as I know. Now rest. Close your eyes sweet woman. The sleep wont come easy, I'll guarantee you that but you'll feel better for it." She leaned in and kissed her friends forehead.

Hermione looked up and down the room and then straight into her mother's eyes and Helen looked back, unable to hide the distaste. "Why are you here Hermione?"

"I don't have anywhere else to go. He's dead. Menelaus is dead and I have nowhere, absolutely nowhere. Do you think I'd come here if I had a choice? You left me mother. You. Left. Me and now..." she laughed. "...pretty Prince Paris doesn't even love you anymore."

"What do you know about it? What do you know about love?"

"The only things I know are from stories I've heard about _you_. I know its OK to let people die for love. I know that when you say it, you don't necessarily mean it, and I I know he doesn't love you. He'll delude himself, make no mistake... but in his heart... you will always be a replacement for his little nymph girl."

"How _dare_ you!"


End file.
